headstrong
by genieforyourworld
Summary: Walking through the city alone, Morty dares to dream.


**disclaimer: not mine.  
****notes: i want to do every gym leader. eventually.  
****summary: walking through the city alone, morty dares to dream.**

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One.  
**ghost light  
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The matted floor creaks quietly — a whisper in the wind — as he leaves. His mother doesn't hear, thankfully. She'd only worry. He doesn't think he can deal with her today. He takes his time when shutting the door hoping that the old rusty hinges remain in their death-like trance.

The air outside is cool, but not chilly. It feels nice against his skin unlike the harsh words and reminders of reality that usually hit him when he abandons the safety of his home.

His throat is dry, so he is glad to be alone (for now, anyway). He doesn't have to speak or explain anything to anyone. It has been nothing but questions that do not have an answer (_yet_, he reminds himself. _Not just yet_).

"You're old enough now, boy. What are you going to do with your life?"

Something that will make you successful. Buy a nice house. Marry a pretty girl. Have a few kids. Write a will. Die. The world moves on.

They're all forcing him to chose, telling him to grow up. They don't care about simple teenage things. Messing around with friends. Falling in love. Being happy.

But he's not ready. Not just yet.

One more day. One more year. Anything will do.

Morty thinks long and hard under the Ecruteak street lights. The illuminations are pale and yellowy, not harsh and pressuring. They're like fairy lights, calm and delicate.

Pondering what he might enjoy, he thinks about what he cares about right now, in this moment. The city's ancient cobbles, traditional architecture, the dark sky, the dense woodland on the edge of town (what he wouldn't give to get lost in there amongst the ghosts and their quiet rustles and silent steps).

As a young child, he loved to listen to his widower grandfather's tales of the two towers and the majestic bird that would visit it's perch. He would question if he had ever seen the pokemon. "No, but maybe you will one day. If you're strong enough, it may appear before you," the old man would say before scuttling off to the Kimono Dance Theatre.

But what kind of strength was the bird looking for? Hopefully not physical strength, he was as lanky as they came. After all, he contemplated, what would a beautiful ancient beast see in a clueless teenager?

Morty loved his hometown, the shrouds that covered it and the mysteries buried beneath it, and cherished the stories that were passed down. Maybe he would be a good historian – someone who could keep the myths and fables alive.

Then he met Eusine. The guy's over enthusiasm was a clever mixture of shocking and strange. Part of the reason he valued Ecruteak City was down to its residents — the old lady who would greet him every morning, the school children who excitably asked if he was a trainer — who were polite, sophisticated and just got on with their peaceful lives. Eusine was unlike anyone Morty had met before.

"You have the look of a pokemon trainer," the erratically dressed man had said when they first met, "let's battle!"

The flabbergasted look that covered his face when he announced that he didn't have any pokemon was something Morty would never forget.

But the last thing he needed — or wanted — was _another _person trying to push him in one direction.

The fireflies are out again tonight in the clear early autumn air. His absolute favourite part of the city was always the Bellchime trail. No one is around, so it's easy to climb over the aging wooden fence and blend into the trees. His footsteps cause the fallen leaves to crunch and crumble but he is not worried. He's escaped back here too many times to know that the guards cannot hear him. He hopes they're asleep and choke on their own drool. The path is, as always, barely visible due to the leaves. It's a fantastic sight reserved for only a few. It doesn't deserve to be kept in the dark.

Morty collapses ungracefully into a sitting position at the foot of the grand Bell Tower. Running a hand through his thick blond hair, he shuts his eyes and tries to forget about the world. It is a difficult task that proves impossible. His mind is plagued with confusion and debate and worry. He's just a kid. He doesn't know what he wants. Looking up towards the stars, he wishes that it would all just stop.

He doesn't notice the Gastly at first. The creature is soundless in a beautiful kind of way. His eyes focus on it and he is drawn to the way it moves, floating easily across the air. It notices him and, startled, raises its defences. It stares back at him for a short while before realising the silent young boy with blond hair and a lack of answers poses no threat. The pokemon evaporates into the golden trees.

_They're not scary. Not all bad_, he thinks, recalling the negative image that accompanies ghost pokemon. In fact, he notes that he quite likes them. They're free, but misunderstood. Delicate, yet powerful. He wants to be just like them, if he is not already.

Looking up at the twinkling lights overhead once again, Morty realises that ghosts have a light of their own. Maybe he can reach that one day.

His head fills with dreams, and Morty cannot help but smile.

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**extra**: I have wanted to do some kind of drabble anthology for a while. what better way to go than with the gym leaders. there's so many paths you can take with them. mainly because there is so many. Sabrina should be up next.

_Review_.


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